The Everglow
by cheapxperfume
Summary: SEQUEL TO BD. The battle is far from won & Murtagh has disappeared without a trace. Trying to escape the facts, Scarlett leaves the Varden but falls hard for someone. Will he piece her back together or break her even more? Who will be the one to save her?
1. It's Cold Inside

**A/N: Welcome to the sequel to Beautiful Disaster!! Review if you love/hate it. :)**

Three days had passed since the battle between the Varden and the Urgals, yet Scarlett still found herself stepping over bodies. In a desperate attempt to make herself useful, she was juggling two jobs – assisting healers and identifying mutilated bodies. She dreaded the latter with everything in her. She despised looking at the bruised and battered bodies, painfully aware of how easily it could have been Murtagh or Eragon.

Murtagh, eager to escape the wreckage and decay of the battle remnants, had gone off to hunt down escaped Urgals with Ajihad and the dwarf king, while Eragon had stuck around. Ever since Scarlett had saved his life, Murtagh had acted differently around her. She suspected it had been the first time Murtagh had realized that someone genuinely cared whether he lived or died.

But he wasn't the only one who had been changed as a result of the battle. Eragon now had a twisted, ropy scar winding down his back, a gift from the now-dead Shade, Durza. Though the fight had left no lasting marks on Scarlett, she was now a much more cautious, wary person. Za'lil, her midnight black sword, now hung from her waist at all times, ready for action a minute's notice.

She had just classified one of the corpses as an aged dwarf named Isidar when Eragon suddenly called to her from the other side of the battlefield. She glanced up expectantly.

"Ajihad and Murtagh are returning with the others," Eragon shouted over to her. "I've just been informed that we need to meet them by Tronjheim's west gate."

Scarlett nodded and began to follow Eragon to the tunnels. Neither spoke. Nobody felt like talking as of late.

They had reached a tunnel Ajihad and the others were expected to arrive through within minutes. Scarlett stood motionless as Eragon restlessly glanced around, sneaking peeks at the secret desire of his heart – Arya.

If Scarlett was impatient, she gave no sign of it. But when Murtagh, Ajihad, and the others at last became visible in the narrow, winding tunnel, she cheered along with everyone else.

It was when Ajihad raised a hand in greeting that Scarlett first saw them – a cluster of Urgals, inconspicuously creeping behind the returning group, unnoticed amid the happy shouts and confusion.

By the time Scarlett had drawn her sword and yelled, "URGALS!" it was already too late. Although she was running as fast as she could, the Urgals had used the element of surprise to their advantage, and Scarlett could only look on powerlessly as members of the Varden began to fall.

She only realized Eragon had been a few steps behind her when she stopped before the massacre and he was beside her. Angry tears burned furiously behind her eyes and she drew a shaking hand across her face. Murtagh and a few of the others were still standing, looking utterly bewildered, but Ajihad was lying flat on his back, obviously in great pain.

"I'll see to Ajihad," Eragon muttered in her ear. She knew it would be useless to try and save him. They both did. He was beyond any hope of recovery.

She watched Eragon kneel down beside Ajihad, suddenly feeling empty and remorseful. If she had gotten there sooner, could she have stopped it? Would it have been possible to destroy the Urgals before they brutally slaughtered the Varden's leader?

Scarlett could not longer stem her flow of emotions; a single crystallized tear trailed unbidden down her cheek. Murtagh, surrounded by seven bloody Urgal corpses, saw it clearly. He walked over to her.

She looked up when he whispered her name and hastily wiped at the tear, not knowing he had already seen it.

"Scarlett," he repeated quietly. "There was nothing you could – Scarlett, look at me!" He took her chin in his hand and pulled her tearstained face up to his. She sucked in her breath. He was inches away from her. "Scarlett, we should have seen it coming, it's not your… not your fault."

For a moment she could feel his breath on her lips. Then she shifted her eyes; turned away as another tear slipped out. "My fault… all my fault…" she mumbled as Ajihad took his last shuddering breath and passed on.

She vaguely felt Murtagh's body slide away from hers, but she barely even noticed through her tears.

Eragon looked up, crying silently. Suddenly he seemed to realize something. "Murtagh… the Twins…"

Unnerved, Scarlett spun and was startled to see that Murtagh was gone. The Twins, too, were missing.

More people gathered around Ajihad's lifeless body. Some began to question Eragon. Arya went off to search. But Scarlett was left alone, and she was grateful for it. It was hard enough to absorb the facts without people trying to talk to her about what had happened.

This was the second time she had failed someone with the results being fateful. Perhaps it was just another death in the long chain of sorrow that her life could become – but then again, perhaps not.

All she knew was that Murtagh was gone – possibly kidnapped, possibly wounded, possibly dead, or…

Did she dare to think it? Maybe Murtagh had known exactly what was going on. Maybe he had rum away from the Varden for good… to betray them.

But no. Murtagh had sworn loyalty to Eragon, to Scarlett. Had she not seen the light shine in his eyes when she called him friend? Yes, he was her friend. Maybe her only one.

She felt cold – terribly cold. She was afraid for Murtagh's safety, for Arya's. She was just afraid.

And so cold.


	2. Fade Away

**A/N: Yeah, a bit draggy. But just wait a bit longer and I swear things will heat up. :)**

When Eragon awoke the next morning, he found that Scarlett had never even slept that night. Dark bags sagged beneath her eyes, and the hem of her tunic was still stained with Urgal blood. She looked as though she was trying to stare a hole through the stone wall.

Eragon propped himself up against the pillows sleepily. "Scarlett? Did they find Murtagh and the Twins?"

A muscle in her jaw clenched, but she gave no other visible sign that she'd heard him.

"Scarlett?"

A lone tear slipped down her cheek. Eragon got out of bed and went to her side, inexplicably tense.

"What happened?"

She held out a single boot. "M-Murtagh…" she whispered, stumbling slightly over the name.

Eragon shook her by the shoulders. "What happened?"

Scarlett fumbled for the right words. "Arya… it was all she could find of… them… along with that…" She gestured towards a heap of bloody robes. With a sickening jolt, Eragon realized that the garments belonged to one of the Twins.

Speechless, he turned away, trying to mask his own emotions. He staggered over to the door. "Going out…" he muttered.

Scarlett heard the door slam and the Rider was gone.

Feeling empty, she stumbled out of the room and made her way through the maze of passages until she reached her own. In light of Ajihad's death, no one had been in to clean it, but to Scarlett it couldn't have mattered less – she collapsed on the unmade bed and fell into a nightmare-plagued slumber.

She awake many times; gasping for air, with a thin film of sweat coating her body. But she just couldn't bring herself to crawl out of bed, she merely fell back into the pillows and hoped against hope that the terrible dreams would cease.

They didn't. Over and over again, her mind pictured Murtagh lying twisted and bloodied in some bottomless chasm. When it wasn't him, it was Caden, floating facedown in the rushing currents of the river that had killed him.

In those hours that hovered between sleep and awakening, Scarlett reflected on why Murtagh's death had affected her so. Perhaps it was a sign that the rest of her life was bound to be miserable. Maybe it proved what she had already been suspecting – everyone she loved died. In her delirium, she wondered when Death would claim its next victim – and who the victim would be. She hoped it would be herself.

The next time she woke, Eragon was just sitting on a chair by her bed. When her eyes opened, he stood.

"I just thought I'd tell you that Nasuada has been chosen as Ajihad's successor."

"I'm fine, Eragon," Scarlett said dully. "You could have just asked me."

"Ah, well… right, then. I'll just go." Eragon walked out of the room after one final, worried glance.

Scarlett was unaware of the events that followed the next few days, as she slept for much of it. She developed a fever and was assigned her own personal healer by Nasuada, but later Scarlett would have no recollection of another person being in the room with her at all. She constantly twisted and turned in a restless sleep, the nightmarish images of Caden's and Murtagh's dead bodies burned into her retinas even after she opened her eyes.

Eragon rarely visited Scarlett while she was sick, as he was much too busy meeting with important officials, councils, and leaders. Indeed, the night Scarlett's fever broke, Eragon was consuming large quantities of rum and mead with a whole roomful of dwarves.

Scarlett was awake the next day long before the young Rider. She sat bolt upright, an unmarked grave fading from her mind as she took in her surroundings. A young male healer was sitting at the foot of her bed. He looked to be ten or so years older than she, and was apparently of elf descent, due to his graceful appearance and pointed ears. He was slumped over in his chair, obviously asleep.

Carefully, Scarlett stuck one foot out of bed, then the other. Trembling a bit, she tried to maintain her balance, but when the door burst open she tripped and fell. The elf jerked awake simultaneously.

A short dwarf had opened the door – probably a messenger, by the looks of it. He cleared his throat as Scarlett picked herself up off the floor.

"You've been invited to attend Ajihad's funeral procession," he intoned. His voice was rather deep and it seemed strange coming out of one so small. "Eragon Shadeslayer will be awaiting your arrival before the procession begins." His message complete, the dwarf turned and sauntered importantly out of the room.

Seeing that the message had not concerned him, the elf promptly fell back asleep.

"Very helpful," Scarlett muttered. She spun on her heel and saw a fresh outfit lying on the chair. She had been dressed in nothing but an oversized wool tunic that she didn't remember putting on; it smelled faintly of dust and mothballs, and she was eager to be rid of it.

She took the clean clothes to the adjoining room and quickly changed. The form-fitting black dress was floor-length and sleeveless, cinched at the waist with a simple silver chain belt that fit her perfectly. She wondered for a brief moment how the makers had gotten the measurements so precise as she tied up her hair; but she knew there was no time for such thoughts when she was probably going to be late.

The elf was no longer there when she stepped back into her room – presumably he had left for the funeral.

She walked outside her door and realized the dwarf hadn't told her where to go, but five seconds later she knew there would have been no need. The crowd could have been heard from fifty leagues away.

She followed the chatters and shouts and soon enough came upon the source of the noise. There was no difficulty in finding Eragon – he was perched importantly atop Saphira. Making her way over to him was more difficult, however; but at last she managed to squeeze through the people, dwarves, and elves to end up beside him.

Eragon sensed her presence and glanced down at her. She looked older and wearier; Za'lil was hidden in the folds of her dress, merely a second away if it was needed.

She quickly returned his gaze and he offered her a small, sad smile. Scarlett didn't attempt to return it; she just looked away.

Hurriedly she fell into step with the rest of the procession. Most of the important people, like the dwarf king and Eragon, were at the front just behind the men that bore Ajihad's corpse. But being a regular girl, Scarlett joined the other mourners of the Varden in bringing up the rear.

After what felt like hours, the leaders of the procession at last came to a rest, with the remainder doing the same. A murmur traveled through the crowd and Scarlett supposed that Ajihad was being lowered into his grave.

Minutes later, Nasuada began to sing a haunting, pained melody in an unknown language. People around her joined in, but Scarlett kept her mouth closed. She kept her eyes half-shut and tried not to think about the fact that this was just as much Murtagh's funeral as Ajihad's.

She turned her head upwards, as though she could find Murtagh somewhere above her. She knew he would have wanted her to be strong. He would have said so himself if he was there with her.

She knew that she must learn to move on without him, just as she had with Caden.

Long after the mourning crowd had dispersed, Scarlett scooped up some forgotten white lilies from the soil. Not caring if she dirtied her dress, she knelt on the ground and drew her finger through the fine sandy dirt:

_Murtagh. Friend. Protector. You shall not be forgotten._

Scarlett let the flowers she held gently fall to the ground as she closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall for him, one last time.


	3. Everything's Hanging On This Moment

Hours later, the crowning of Nasuada as queen was about to take place and Eragon couldn't find Scarlett anywhere. He at last picked her out, stuck between two rather large dwarves, on her way into the amphitheater where the ceremony was about to take place. Eragon grabbed her arm and tugged her between himself and Saphira, where she could hear him above the noise of the crowd.

"You have to sit by me," he explained.

Scarlett nodded and let him drag her along behind him. She had promised she wouldn't cry about the funeral anymore, but she was still finding him difficult. She was dreading sleep, for she knew that nightmare would overtake her mind the moment her head hit the pillows.

Eragon glanced back several times to make sure she was all right, but he could discern nothing from her unreadable features. Her eyes were empty and emotionless and her hand in his felt stone cold. He was worried about her.

They soon arrived at a line of seats in the amphitheater that was level with the podium. Arya, the dwarf king, and ten or so other people Scarlett didn't recognize were already in their chairs, with two remaining on the end for herself and Eragon. But unlike the surrounding crowds, who were chattering ceaselessly, they sat motionlessly in their seats, very much resembling statues. It was as though they knew their entire lives could be hanging on the following ceremony, and they were willing Nasuada to adequately fill her father's shoes – for the sake of the Varden, and themselves.

Feeling uncomfortable and out of place, Scarlett took her seat just as the ceremony began. For the following half-hour, she watched as important people, including Eragon and Saphira, all walked up to the podium and nominated Ajihad's daughter. Eventually Nasuada was brought out, her midnight blue dress billowing around her with each step. She was a very different girl now, compared to the one Scarlett had stumbled upon in the kitchen – she looked confident and prepared, nothing like the still-maturing teenager Scarlett had become acquainted with so long ago.

The audience looked on in excitement as Nasuada was crowned, and clapped feverishly for a good ten minutes after. But what happened next as the applause died down threw the room into silence.

Eragon got down on one knee and pledged his fealty to Nasuada. Scarlett could see in one glance that it had not been planned. The "Council of Elders," as Eragon called them, hovered in the background, angry at the young Rider's boldness by powerless to stop him. They looked on as Nasuada nodded in approval and Eragon slowly stood.

Nasuada gave a short, encouraging speech to the Varden and then they gradually filed out of the auditorium. Eragon met a wide-eyed Scarlett outside moments later.

"I don't know much about the politics here," she said as he fell into step with her, "but I'm guessing that was a pretty brave move on your part."

Eragon smiled grimly. "It was the last thing the Council expected to happen. They'll be out for blood."


	4. Our Chance To Go For Something

As days passed, Scarlett became reclusive, doing nothing but feverish training, determined to avenge the deaths of Murtagh and Ajihad. She rose with the sun to sharpen Za'lil and prepare herself, and could often be seen sparring with another lone elf long after the moon had risen.

Eragon was far too busy to practice with her more than a few times a week. Important engagements always drew him away; one time it was the sorceress, Trianna, another time it was the newly-crowned Nasuada herself.

But when he finally did need to talk to Scarlett, he wasn't surprised to find her already awake, going through a series of stretches before beginning her daily routine.

He tapped on the open door, then quickly walked in. "We have to leave for Ellesméra. Pack up your belongings. Nasuada has requested that you come with me. You can continue your training there."

Scarlett's eyes widened as she stood. "Ellesméra, Eragon? Honestly?"

Eragon nodded impatiently. "Yes. Now meet me and Orik by the gate in ten minutes." He left without a backward glance, just as suddenly as he had come.

Suppressing a yawn, Scarlett threw her things into her knapsack and was about to leave when she turned around suddenly and surveyed her room one last time. With a jolt, she realized she had nearly forgotten her travel cloak – the emerald green one that she had bought the day before she met Murtagh. True, the Varden had offered her a far better one, but the green cloak, with all its tears and discolorations, had a special sort of significance to her. Almost as if Murtagh had given it to her himself. Reminding herself that she needed to leave, Scarlett pushed thoughts of Murtagh from her mind, picked up her cloak, and walked out the door for what she hoped was not the last time.

She'd expected to be the last one at the gate, but was surprised to find that Arya was still not present. The elf arrived moments later, bearing a pack similar to Scarlett's, her face expressionless but not unfriendly.

"Let's go," was all she said. The dwarf, Orik, swiftly led them through a tunnel and out a hidden door. Scarlett was thrilled to be out in the fresh air for the first time in months. She would have loved to dance through the vibrant green grass, free as a bird, but one look at her companions' faces told her that this excursion was not meant to be enjoyable.

Arya exhaled slowly. "And so," she said, "the journey begins."

The trip to Ellesméra was significantly less difficult than traveling to the Varden again, as this time they weren't being chased by Urgals. Scarlett had grown a bit stronger over the past months and therefore had enough strength to spar with her companions every night. When she engaged in combat with Eragon, her skill almost equally matched his, as with the dwarves that had accompanied them. But she found it near impossible to beat Arya. The elf moved fluidly from position to position without even breaking a sweat, while Scarlett herself was panting and using every particle of her being to fight back and defend herself. She could easily see why Eragon was so fascinated with the elf – she had a sort of unmistakable grace and demeanor that could not possibly be confused with that of a human. Scarlett felt borderline envious as Arya smoothly continued to defeat her, time after time.

Scarlett kept herself entertained by watching Eragon and Arya when she wasn't training. It was almost comical to watch the Rider lose control of his tongue or flush red whenever he was in the elf's presence. He would try his hardest to keep a conversation with her going, as Arya was not extremely social. Scarlett found the whole thing hopelessly romantic. She would always choke back her laughter until the both the elf and Eragon were out of earshot, then share a good hearty laugh with the dwarves later on.

After several days of walking, they reached Ellesméra at last. A dozen or so elves met them at the entrance. Arya spoke a rapid string of Elvish and the elves smiled, allowing them to pass.

Obviously familiar with her surroundings, Arya led them through the city until they reached a gigantic building.

What followed next had very little to do with Scarlett. An exclamation from Queen Izlandí revealed that Arya was a princess. Eragon informed the queen of recent events and she in turn discussed Eragon's future at Ellesméra with him. Scarlett was barely even acknowledged, finding the whole conversation rather monotonous. She was relieved when the queen at last dismissed them to go enjoy a delicious feast that had been prepared for a celebration of their arrival. She had been eager to sample the Elvish good, and she was in no way disappointed – though there was no meat, the fruits and vegetables were full of flavor and worth savoring.

When the meal ended at last, Eragon left without so much as a word to Scarlett and she idly realized that they were hardly talking as of late. But as she knew the Rider had much on his mind, she did not press the matter. Instead, she followed a silent elf up several flights of stairs until they reached a plain, simple bedroom at last.

Exhausted form the long journey, Scarlett collapsed thankfully onto the soft, cushiony bed and fell into a deep sleep.


	5. The Moment Comes

**A/N: This chapter's introducing a brand new main character. Let me know what you think of him in that review I know you're thinking about writing. **

Orik woke Skylar the next day.

Bleary-eyed, she sat halfway up in her bed. "Yes?"

"The queen requests your presence, along with Eragon, Saphira, and me." He glanced at her. "Seeing that you're not fully prepared as of this moment, I will go inform Eragon. But I'm expecting you'll join us outside soon." The dwarf turned and walked out of the room.

Feeling as though she'd barely slept, Scarlett climbed out of bed and glanced around her room. For the most part, it looked the same as it had the night before – but then she noticed that someone had laid out clothes and placed a bowl of fruit beside them.

The garments were exquisitely made. She quickly pulled on a tunic the color of autumn leaves and wrapped her thighs and lower calves in pure white leggings. Gratefully, she picked up the hairbrush and ran it through the tangles in her hair. Slipping on her new pair of shoes, she picked up an apple and ran out the door.

She was the last one to arrive. Queen Izlanzadí seemed flustered and didn't speak at all as she led them. After several minutes, they stopped at the base of a wooded knoll and she faced them.

"You must swear never to tell anyone what you see here," she said in a tremulous voice.

After some hesitation, they all gave their oaths, and then the queen pivoted. At that exact moment, there was a flash of gold and something shot through the sky. It took a minute for Scarlett to realize that they were viewing a dragon – and there was a Rider on its back.

The Rider dismounted and began to speak with Eragon and the queen while Saphira examined the other dragon. Scarlett hovered in the background; she knew her place and knew better than to push her way into a conversation where she didn't belong. It was only when the other Rider beckoned her over to him that she joined the others.

"Eragon has told me how you led him to the Varden," he said. He was an elf, and an old one at that – his hair was snow white and his face lined with wrinkles. "For that, I am forever in your debt; without you, none of this would be happening. I am Oromis." He turned and gestured at the massive beast behind him. "And this is my faithful companion, Glaedr."

Scarlett nodded respectfully as the Rider continued. "You will not be training with Eragon, but as he has told me much of your developing skills on the battlefield, I will arrange for your lessons to begin soon." A smile formed on his thin, pale lips. "And I think I know the perfect instructor for you."

He turned abruptly back to Eragon, signifying the end of the conversation.

Soon after their exchange, the queen dismissed Scarlett and she returned to her room, whiling the rest of her day away sleeping or staring into space.

The next morning, it was not Orik that woke her, but her own nightmare instead. She jerked painfully awake, Murtagh and Caden's lifeless bodies still etched into her mind. Heaving a shaky sigh, she got up and dressed. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed a message pinned to her door. Curious, she removed it and began to read.

"Dear Scarlett," she read aloud. "Your lessons with Matayan will begin promptly at seven o' clock. He doesn't like to be kept waiting, so I don't suggest taking your time. Bring your sword, bow, and arrows. Oromis."

She quickly folded up the paper, retrieved her weapons, and left. After asking several elves where Matayan could be found, she finally came upon him in a clearing in the woods.

At first, she only saw him from the back. Even so, she could see that he was a tall, majestic elf, strong and dark-haired. After a split-second's hesitation, she called his name and he turned, smiling. His deep brown hair tumbled just past his ears, and his piercing blue eyes startled Scarlett. It felt like he was looking right into her soul with a single glance. He was dressed in dark green and brown, and he carried his bow and arrows. A sword was fastened tightly to his waist by means of a belt.

In a flash, he had drawn his bow and arrow and pointed it at a target on one of the trees behind her. He released the arrow with a twang and it whistled through the air and until it hit the exact center of the target.

"Lesson one,' he said. "Accuracy."

Scarlett's eyes widened. "You can teach me how to fire like _that_?"

Matayan winked. "And much more, Scarlett." He tilted his head slightly. "That's your name, isn't it?"

Scarlett nodded quietly, not sure what to say.

The elf took a step toward her. "We'll start with the little things." He reached out. "May I see your sword?"

Scarlett obliged and Matayan took it carefully from her, spinning and jabbing it with just a flick of his wrist.

"Does it have a name?" he asked softly.

Scarlett watched him twirl the weapon in his hand, so entranced she didn't answer right away. "Yes – Za'lil."

"Destiny," Matayan breathed. He paused and returned the blade to Scarlett with another grin. "That's a good omen for our lessons, I think."

Suddenly he was serious. "What do you know of the history of our Riders; our world?"

Scarlett clenched her hand on the pommel of her sword. "I know that Morzan aided Galbatorix in killing many a good man, and dragons as well."

Matayan began to pace. "There isn't much else to tell, really. Galbatorix has enslaved many, and killed even more. He hunted down and killed all the Riders and their dragons so he'd have no competition… or so he thought." The elf looked up, a glimmer of hope shining in his eye. "But he has no idea that a new age of Riders is dawning." Suddenly he was still. "And we are going to help bring that about."

Scarlett's features were set. "I'm ready."

Matayan was moving again. "We don't have a lot of time," he said. "The Varden might call for you and the Rider at any time, and you have to be prepared for when that happens."

Quickly, he readied his bow and Scarlett did the same, standing beside him. "Now, close your eyes," he murmured.

"What?!" Scarlett exclaimed in shock. "How am I supposed to see the target?"

Matayan only grinned. "For true accuracy, you must become one with your surroundings. Hear each sound individually. Become a part of it all."

Scarlett closed her eyes and began to probe with her mind, focusing as hard as she could on the world around her. She just barely heard Matayan whispering almost unrecognizably.

"One… two… three."

Scarlett let go of her arrow and opened her eyes to see where it had gone. While Matayan had embedded itself directly in the center of the tree's target, Scarlett's arrow was nowhere to be found.

"And now, Matayan said with a small, short laugh. " Let the training begin."


	6. Get Lost Or Go Far

Over the following week, Scarlett woke every morning to find the same note from Oromis on her door. And every day, the lesson would begin in the same way.

"Blöthr!" Matayan would cry. This meant 'stop' in the ancient language, and Scarlett would instantly obey.

"Kodthr!" he'd shout. This, in turn, meant 'catch,' and was always followed with one of his arrows.

Scarlett would invariably miss the arrow. Although days had passed and she was now prepared for it, she just couldn't seem to get her fingers moving fast enough.

"Quick reflexes," Matayan would say, "take lots of practice."

How to catch an arrow was not the only thing the elf was teaching Scarlett. Although she couldn't actually use magic, he was still teaching her words and conjugations in the ancient language. Occasionally he would slip in a little Elvish or Dwarvish as well, just to test her knowledge.

He also told her that a good warrior had to be both flexible and strong. To train her in that area, he helped her through a series of exercises known as the Rimgar.

But at request from Scarlett, they spent most of their time engaged in one-on-one combat, usually with swords. Scarlett couldn't get over how seamlessly Matayan moved from position to position, and sometimes her awe went as far as to get in the way of her performance.

It was exactly seven days after her lessons had begun, and Scarlett had just lost spectacularly to Matayan in yet another trying battle.

He extended his hand to help her up, offering his trademark smile. "Someday, Scarlett, the tables will be turned, and it will be you who's offering your hand to me," he said as he pulled her up.

Scarlett grinned. Matayan's optimism always helped to raise her spirits.

"So, is the lesson over?" she asked, dusting herself off.

Her companion thought for a moment. "Normally, it would be. But seeing as you've been here for over a week and haven't seen any of Ellesméra, I thought I'd show you around."

He grabbed her hand and began to lead her out of the woods. A tingly feeling shot down Scarlett's spine and she stifles a gasp of surprise. What was wrong with her lately?

They walked past countless elves, each busy with their own daily duties. Matayan pointed out a few to her, naming them.

Finally they came to another small clearing with an enormous pine tree in the exact center. Matayan released her hand as they both looked on in awe.

"The Menoa tree," he breathed.

They sat against the gigantic trunk and began to talk about anything and everything. Scarlett could not remember ever being more open with anybody – she found herself revealing her past to Matayan, who listened attentively. Indeed, the moment Caden's demise left her lips, she realized there was only one other person Scarlett had shared Caden's story with – Murtagh. Tears filled her eyes and Matayan saw them immediately.

"Scarlett? Is there something wrong?"

She jumped up, angry at herself for losing control. "This… this isn't right…."

Matayan stood next to her. "What do you mean?"

Scarlett didn't even hear him. "Murtagh…" she whispered.

Matayan was lost. He grabbed Scarlett by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Scarlett… is there anything you want to tell me? Anything at all?" He reached up and brushed a tear away from her cheek, dropping his voice. "Scarlett, I don't want to see you like this…"

She sniffed and looked into his eyes, suddenly realizing how unusually close their faces were. It was all too much. She broke free of Matayan's embrace and ran blindly as more tears poured down her cheeks.

She stumbled into Eragon during her mad dash to her room. He saw the look on her face immediately. "Scarlett, what –"

Scarlett could hear Matayan's shouts of her name growing ever nearer behind her. She pushed Eragon away. "Eragon, just leave me alone!"

The Rider stumbled back, startled, and Scarlett continued to run. She didn't stop until she was in her room and the door was locked firmly behind her.

She collapsed on her bed and wept. She was lost between her new, confused feelings for her instructor and the ever-present memory of Murtagh. But no matter where she looked, there was no one who could help her, no one who could understand.

So as night fell, she cried on and ignored all the knocks on her door.


	7. Tearing Down The Walls In The Way

Scarlett was only mildly surprised when there was no note from Oromis on her door the next day

Scarlett was only mildly surprised when there was no note from Oromis on her door the next day. She hadn't been entirely sure what to expect after her outburst the day before, but she supposed Matayan was just as confused as she was and needed to be alone with his thoughts for a while.

But she became worried when there was no message the next day, or the day after that. On the fifth day, she had still not heard from Oromis or Matayan and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She dug through the drawers in the desk beside her bed until she found ink, a quill, and parchment. She dipped the quill ink the ink, paused for a moment, then wrote _Matayan_.

She stopped, then crossed it out once, twice, three times, and then simply discarded the paper and began with a fresh piece.

_Oromis_, she wrote, _I haven't had my lessons in five days and I'm curious as to why.__ -Scarlett_

She waited for an elf to come up with her breakfast, then presented him with the parchment and requested that it be taken to Oromis immediately. The elf nodded and obliged.

Scarlett sat on her bed and received a reply in less than ten minutes – but not in the way she had expected.

A gasp escaped her lips as she felt another presence touch her mind. _Oromis?_ she thought cautiously.

_It is I_, Oromis responded. _As for your lessons, Scarlett, perhaps you should go to Matayan and apologize for your actions._

Somehow Scarlett had expected something like that. But…

_Scarlett, whether you want to admit it or not, you need training and Matayan is your instructor. Go to him and apologize._

Oromis didn't even say goodbye, his presence just disappeared from Scarlett's mind.

Sighing, she resigned herself to what she was about to do.

She went to the usual meeting place and just stood there for a moment, in the center of the clearing, not sure what to do. Then, inexplicably, Matayan materialized out of the shadows.

"Blöthr," he whispered, even though she was already still.

He raised his bow. "Kodthr," he said, and released the arrow.

In a flash of color, Scarlett reached up and caught the arrow, twirling it between her index finger and thumb. "Quick reflexes take lots of practice," she said, quoting him with a bitter smile.

Matayan acknowledged her success with a nod of his head.

Scarlett ventured closer. "Matayan –" she began.

He cut her off. "I'm sorry, Scarlett. I was insensitive the other night." He tried to continue, but Scarlett put her fingers on his lips, stopping him.

She shook her head. "No, Matayan. Don't apologize for what is not your fault." She sighed. "I lost control, and for that I'm sorry."

Matayan looked at her. "I forgive you."

Scarlett stood on her tiptoes to reach him. She had meant it only to be a kiss on the cheek, to signify that the tension between them had been erased. But Matayan tilted his head on an angle so that their lips met and it became a thing of much greater emotion. Scarlett felt her heart speed up and felt the shock waves pounding through her body, but she couldn't pull away. Matayan's lips were fervent and desperate, as though this was the last time they would ever be together.

When they separated, Scarlett felt faint and light-headed. Matayan pressed his forehead against hers, speechless.

Scarlett opened her mouth as though she was about to speak, but Matayan whispered, "Hljödhr," which meant 'silent' in the ancient language. And she obeyed.


	8. Get This Heart Start Beating Again

Things around Matayan were different after that. As the lessons progressed, Scarlett became more relaxed around him and her pace of learning increased.

One day Matayan informed her that Agaetí Blödhren, or the Blood-oath celebration, was drawing steadily closer.

"For the festival, everyone who attends makes some sort of creation to contribute, whether it be literature, art, or something else. So for today's lesson… brainstorm. Try your hand at something." He rose from his seat beside her. "I will leave you alone for a while. See what you can come up with." Finishing on that note, he walked out of the clearing.

Scarlett thought for a moment, considering her abilities. She already knew that her poetry writing was atrocious, so that was out of the question. Perhaps…

Matayan had once spent an entire lesson teaching her about elven culture. It was on that day she learned of making fairths. A fairth was a sort of painting on which she used the ancient language to portray something as she saw it from her perspective.

With a smile, she chose her subject – Matayan. She picked up a large, slate-like piece of rock off the ground and focused very hard on the elf. She bent her head close to the stone, whispered a few choice words, and watched in fascination as soft pastel hues etched their way across the rock's smooth face.

She surveyed the finished work with satisfaction. On the rock was painted Matayan's head and shoulders. His bangs blew across his forehead, moved by an invisible breeze. Firelight cast shadows on his arched cheekbones and filled his eyes with wonder and intrigue. Scarlett traced the shape of his lips and his dark brows and smiled – she was pleased.

Before Scarlett realized, it was the eve of Agaetí Blödhren, which would last for three days. She could never recall much of what she did the first two days, but the third day was avidly clear, burned vivid and sharp into her memories.

She and Eragon sat near the stage. Scarlett hadn't seen Matayan at all during the celebration, and vaguely wondered from time to time where he was. She and the Rider watched, entranced, as the elves presented piece after piece of beautiful art, whether music, literature, painting, skill, or handmade creation. Eragon went up and recited an epic poem he had written himself, and was received with great enthusiasm.

As she sat back down, Scarlett ginned and picked up her fairth, slowly walked towards the stage, and presented it to the audience. As the elves clapped and cheered, she spoke. "This is my one true –" She meant to finish with 'love,' but suddenly the words died on her lips. For she had just seen Matayan, in the front row, passionately kissing the female elf sitting beside him. From what she could tell, he had not so much as glanced at her fairth.

Feeling numb and ill, Scarlett stumbled off the stage as another elf took her place. Eragon whispered, "Are you all right?"

"I just –" But she was cut off once again, for she realized that it was Matayan up on stage, and that he, like Eragon, had written a poem.

He cleared his throat. "This is dedicated to my betrothed, Elyssa." He looked directly at the girl he had been sitting next to and smiled. 'Elyssa' blew him a kiss as the crowd cooed collectively.

"Betrothed?!" Scarlett whispered in a barely-audible voice as Matayan began to recite.

"Oh, one so fair as the rising of the sun, more beautiful than the first lily of spring. She shines brighter than all the stars, a million and one. To kiss her lips is like the first snow of winter, longed after and much anticipated. To know that I shall be with her forever is beyond the greatest treasure. Elyssa, my one and only, my love."

It was the strangest 'poem' Eragon had ever heard, but the crowd roared with approval. He turned to Scarlett, who appeared to be fighting tears.

"Scarlett? Scarlett! Are you feeling well?"

It was as though she had not even heard him. She sprang up from her seat and ran into the woods, her mouth ripping open in a silent scream. Tears were pouring down her cheeks so quickly that her path was nearly obliterated, but she kept running, although she tripped multiple times. She finally staggered to a halt at the edge of a deep ravine. The elves had named it "Rauthr," which meant 'misfortune' in the ancient language. Indeed, it was misfortune that had brought Scarlett to this place.

With all her strength, she lifted the fairth over her head and threw it. She watched it fall until she lost sight of it, but she still heard the wrenching shatter as the rock hit the bottom of the ravine and broke into a thousand pieces.

Scarlett stood there for a moment, then uttered an ugly curse. "Barzul." Curse him.

Then she sank to her knees and cried.


	9. It Calls Us On And On

**A/N: As you can see, I invent some pretty strange names… Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers, it means so much to see a review alert in my email. :) This month is The Everglow's one-year anniversary – yeah, I have the whole thing written already. Doesn't mean you'll be getting it any faster, sorry!**

Scarlett never spoke to Matayan again. Not to say that he didn't try to speak with her, of course – he banged on her bedroom door countless times, but she never answered.

She couldn't get over how blatantly he'd lied to her. She had much time to reflect on that while she confined herself to her room. She also had time to remember Murtagh. After Agaetí Blödhren, she had developed a talent for creating fairths. She made them in huge numbers, of Murtagh, of Caden, of Eragon, and scenes she remembered from her childhood, as well as her journey to the Varden.

Oromis sent her several messages, trying to get her to continue lessons. But every time Scarlett assured him that she had learned all she needed and was practicing her skills in her room, so eventually he gave up and the letters stopped coming.

Her nightmares were continuing to haunt her. And with all the extra time she now had on her hands, they came upon her even in the daytime. She tried to make a fairth of Caden once, right after she woke up from a nightmare, thinking that her memory of him would e clearer if she had just seen him in her dream. But she had to hold in her scream when the colors came together to become not Caden's young, happy face, but a scene of him lying facedown in the water, drained and empty. She had hurled that one out the window immediately, then sat on her bed and stared off into space.

Scarlett tried not to cry. She'd been doing it more frequently these days, suddenly in a painful and vulnerable state as Matayan's betrayal combined with her recurring nightmares. She was left feeling… broken.

It had been three weeks since Agaetí Blödhren when Eragon made his first appearance in Scarlett's room.

He burst through the door. "We're leaving. The Varden needs us. Pack your belongings and meet me by Oromis's hut in five minutes."

Shocked, Scarlett nodded and began to scurry around her room, picking things up off shelves and tables and throwing them haphazardly into her old worn leather satchel. Lastly, she grabbed her clock and raced outside to meet Eragon, thanking her good memory for remembering the path.

When she arrived, Oromis had just finished giving Eragon his departure gifts. He held out a pile of cloth to Scarlett. "In light of your departure, I have decided to present you with these."

Scarlett took the pile from him in wonder. It was only when she unfolded the first piece that she realized Oromis had just given her the most beautiful battle attire she had ever seen.

What she was holding at the moment was a leather corset that, from what she could feel, would be impervious to the elements and weapons alike. The next items were black metal forearm guards, a stripe of silver metal going down the center of each. Her fascination growing, Scarlett picked up the third piece. It turned out to be matching black combat pants with chain mail sewed onto them. Last were black boots – knee length and inlaid with silver, black fingerless gloves, and a simple black necklace with a diamond encased in the middle. As Scarlett stared at the necklace in awe, Oromis spoke.

"That diamond can hold huge amounts of energy. If you are ever weakened in battle, you can draw upon that as an energy source to sustain yourself. Oh yes, and those garments once belonged to the Rider, Miyesha. I had no use for them and decided to give them to you."

"… Thank you," Scarlett said, almost at loss for words. She found it mind-boggling that she recognized Miyesha's name from her history lessons, and now here she was, holding the famed Rider's armor.

Scarlett packed the gifts away as Eragon said a final goodbye to his mentor. Immediately after that, they found Orik. The dwarf was eager to leave, so they departed quickly.

As soon as they were outside the gates of Ellesméra, Eragon held up a hand and they came to a halt.

"Now, seeing as we need to get to the Varden quickly, we don't have time to trek across the land on foot. Luckily Saphira has grown, otherwise she wouldn't be able to hold all three of us." Eragon mounted his dragon, then held out his hand to help Scarlett up, who in turn managed to pull Orik on.

"Ohhh, I don't like this," the dwarf murmured as Saphira began to flap her wings. "My people were meant to keep their feet on the ground."

The trip was long, but not difficult. Scarlett passed the time with Saphira and Orik by playing a riddle game while Eragon concentrated on keeping the correct course.

They camped at the very entrance to the Hadarac Desert that night. Before they slept, Eragon saw Scarlett wipe a tear from her eye. He knelt down beside her. "Scarlett? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, it's just…" She heaved a shaky sigh. "We camped here before, a long time ago. This place makes me think of Murtagh."

And so they sat there for a moment, in silent remembrance, before collapsing into an exhausted slumber.

It took them close to two weeks to reach Surda, where Nasuada had now housed the Varden, thanks to King Orrin. Once they arrived, Eragon immediately asked to see Nasuada. His request was granted, and he beckoned for his companions to accompany him. They obliged.

Arya, too, was already with Nasuada, and both were eager to hear Eragon's story. After he was done, the queen insisted that they meet countless royal officials, then she dismissed them to go put on their armor.

"After all," she reminded them, "You might need it at any moment."

Scarlett was in awe once again as she put on the armor – she just couldn't believe how perfectly Miyesha's old battle attire fit her. After changing, she wandered around for the rest of the night, her tired eyes branding her an insomniatic as she continued to wait for the battle to begin.


	10. So This Is Where We Win

**A/N: So this is kind of sudden… even for me. I didn't realize I was this close to the end of The Everglow. But anyways, this is the LAST CHAPTER. Of course, since this is called a trilogy, we've got one whole other part to go – it's called BREATH. Remember that, it'll be up soon since I have spring break. Review and it'll come even sooner. Oh, and if it's any incentive at all, BREATH is my favorite out of the three. :)**

Dawn was streaking its way across a dim early-morning sky when Nasuada called for the troops to form ranks. Because of their recent alliance with the Urgals, the army had expanded and the queen was pleased.

"I can only tell you this," she shouted at the rows and rows of armored men, women, and Urgals. "Fight for the Varden! Fight for me! Fight to avenge anyone you've ever lost!" Scarlett thought of Murtagh. "Fight for freedom! …Charge!"

The two armies clashed with a deafening roar. Scarlett glanced wildly around herself; screams and shouts filled the air. The stench of blood was already evident as arrows were released and catapults were launched. Occasionally a man or woman of the Empire would simply drop dead nearby her, and Scarlett would credit that to Eragon's magical abilities.

She lashed out with Za'lil and immediately slaughtered an opponent. Quietly she thanked Matayan for her training, even if he had brutally betrayed her in the end. She moved on to the next soldier, who soon became the next victim.

Every now and then she caught a glimpse of a familiar face – Arya, her normally serene expression marred with contempt; Nasuada, her lungs filling the air with a ferocious battle cry. And sometimes there would be a reassuring flash of blue scales to remind Scarlett that Eragon and Saphira were alive. She just hoped that, by the end, none of those familiar faces would join the dead, who were steadily accumulating.

Scarlett soon realized there was more to Miyesha's armor than she had first imagined. She received a blow to the arm that might have sliced the limb in half under normal circumstances, but instead a sort of force field repelled the blade and she heard a man howl as the enchantment caused him to plunge his own weapon through his stomach. Shrugging, Scarlett sent her gratitude to Oromis as well – wherever he was – and then immediately leapt back into action.

Eventually, however, she began to feel hopeless. She was slowly tiring, even with her energy necklace, and she was also beginning to accumulate multiple minor injuries. As soon as she killed one soldier, it seemed as though another, exactly the same was the one before him, stepped forward. Thus, her spirits were greatly raised when someone shouted, "The dwarves have arrived!"

She cheered along with the rest of the Varden, then continued to fight with renewed energy. "It's not over yet!" she shouted to her fellow soldiers as she lopped off an opponent's head with Za'lil.

Scarlett gradually fought her way up to a hill, so she could get a better view of what was going on below. Just as she had pierced another soldier's heart, a ruby-red dragon rode into view with a black-clad Rider mounted on it. She momentarily froze.

_Galbatorix has hatched another dragon!_

Without hesitation, the Rider sent out a great bolt of red energy that found its mark in the dwarf king's chest. With a groan, he toppled over, dead. Scarlett stood stunned as the dwarves roared angrily.

Getting its bearings, the ferocious dragon circled the hill. It was then that Scarlett got a good look at the Rider, and it left her in complete shock. His eyes showed a torrent of emotions the moment they latched onto hers, but his face gave nothing away. He was gone in a split second, and Scarlett stumbled back in bewilderment. Because she knew she could recognize the eyes anywhere.

It was Murtagh. The enemy Rider was Murtagh.

A clash of swords brought Scarlett to her senses, but she simultaneously probed and searched with her mind for Murtagh.

_Murtagh! Why?!_ She screamed out silently.

Her exclamation was met with silence as she saw him locked in a ferocious duel with Eragon.

This time seeking Eragon with her mind, she called out, _Eragon, look out! The Rider is Murtagh!_

Her mental warnings bounce off the barriers that surrounded Eragon's mind, and she knew he hadn't heard her. She cried out in pure anxiety and fought all the more fervently, desperation taking over her face as thousands of unanswered questions flooded her mind.

An hour passed and it was over, but Murtagh and his dragon were gone. Scarlett raced over to Eragon, bloodstained and weak, and hugged him.

Then she pulled away and frowned. "Eragon, what's wrong? We… We won, aren't you happy?"

Eragon sank to the ground. His eyes were hollow; his words were bitter. "Murtagh is stronger than me. I got away alive because he showed me mercy, not because of skill or superiority. And…" A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye and he looked down at the ground. "Murtagh is my brother. I, too, am Morzan's son."

Scarlett backed away, stunned.

As Eragon said, the Varden may have won this battle, but he, as an individual, had lost.

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Now, one more shot at blatant advertising: BREATH. And the fact that there's a lot more Murtagh in it. :)**


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